


Doctor's Orders

by myglassesaredirty



Series: The End of the Innocence [3]
Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: F/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2018-06-16
Packaged: 2019-05-24 07:16:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14950071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myglassesaredirty/pseuds/myglassesaredirty
Summary: Margaret gets sick. She tries to ignore it. Hawkeye notices.





	Doctor's Orders

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Howlingdawn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Howlingdawn/gifts).



> YO, DAWN. I DID IT.

She sneezes into her bread.

 

BJ looks up from his survey of his food and, without thinking, says, “Bless you.” He goes back to poking the liver with his fork.

 

Hawkeye narrows his eyes at her. “You feeling okay, Margaret?”

 

Margaret wipes her nose with the back of her hand, trying to quell the desperate need to throw up at the feeling of snot touching her skin. “It was just a sneeze, Hawkeye. I’ll be fine.”

 

Hawkeye seems unconvinced but shrugs off the subject nonetheless. He stabs his liver with his knife and picks it up to inspect it. “How do they expect us to eat this?”

 

Margaret makes a face at her bread, which still has her snot smeared across it. “I have no idea, but it’s not worth it.”

 

BJ pushes his tray away from him. “Peg sent me some cookies. I’m going to go eat those.” He grins brightly at her and Hawkeye. “If you’ll excuse me.”

 

Once he leaves, Hawkeye looks up. “I think you might be coming down with something,” he says, shoveling a forkful of peas into his mouth.

 

*

 

“Attention, attention, all personnel – put that  _ fantastic _ dream with your lover on pause. We’ve got wounded in the compound.”

 

Her eyes are bleary when she wakes up to the announcement. She tries to push herself up, but her arms feel weaker than they did yesterday. Her chest feels congested, and all she wants right now is to flop back onto her cot and pull her blanket over her head.

 

She closes her eyes and takes a breath before she grabs her robe. When she walks outside, she watches as BJ, Hawkeye, and Charles weave their way around the mess of wounded. Hawkeye looks up and waves Margaret over.

 

“Belly wound,” he says as soon as she’s close to him. “I’m taking him first.”

 

Margaret nods. “Klinger, over here!” She reaches for the soldier’s tags to read his blood type.

 

“He’s B+,” Hawkeye says, shifting so he can stand. “Get him a unit of blood until I can get into OR.”

 

“Yes, doctor.”

 

Her chest still feels tight, but she doesn’t know how much of that is still phlegm.

 

*

 

She sways on her feet.

 

Hawkeye glances up, and his eyes are filled with concern. She can’t see beyond his surgical mask, but she can imagine his lips are pressed together. “Retraction.”

 

It takes her a moment, but she gets the instrument and retracts the bowel. Hawkeye hasn’t mentioned her sickness since yesterday’s lunch, but she can only imagine what he’s going to say in post-op.

 

“You’re sweating,” he says.

 

Nope. He’s not going to wait until post-op.

 

Some of her sweat gets in her eyes, and they burn. She turns her head, squeezing her eyes shut. “It’s hot in here.”

 

“Margaret, it’s 60 degrees outside.”

 

Her eyes stop burning, so she turns to look at Pierce. “Am I now your patient, doctor?”

 

He’s focused as he sutures the bowel. “I just don’t want to lose our head nurse, even for a couple of days.”

 

She doesn’t want to smile, but she does. “I think I’ll be fine.”

 

*

 

The next morning, she wakes up with a steaming cup of tea on her desk. Once she gets up, she notices a couple of BJ’s wife’s cookies sitting on top of one of her books.

 

She smiles and shakes her head. “How kind.” She’s not- she’s totally not sick, but she appreciates the sentiment nonetheless. She drinks the tea and eats the cookies, which seem to be the only edible thing in the camp this week.

 

When she gets to the mess tent, Hawkeye looks up and drinks from his coffee. “How’re you feeling, Margaret?”

 

Margaret smiles at him and slides into the seat next to him. “I’m feeling better.” She holds up a finger before he can throw her the old  _ I-told-you-so. _ “Not that I was feeling bad in the first place. Just. Better.”

 

Hawkeye raises an eyebrow but goes back to his breakfast. “Hey, do you have any books that I can borrow? If I read  _ Tom Sawyer _ one more time, I’m going to actually blow my lid.”

 

She smiles at him. “What were you thinking?”

 

He stretches and makes a face at his tray. “You happen to have a copy of  _ The Catcher in the Rye?” _

 

She raises her eyebrows. “I do, actually. Would you like me to go get it?”

 

Hawkeye shakes his head. “No, I can get it later. You should eat. Get your strength up.”

 

Margaret squints at him. “Still convinced that I’m sick, doctor?”

 

Hawkeye smiles at her over the rim of his mug. “Possibly.”

 

\---

 

Somewhere, she falls asleep. Even worse, she falls asleep  _ on Hawkeye’s lap. _

 

She feels the palm of his hand press against her forehead, and he begins whisper-singing a Sinatra song as he runs his fingers through her hair.

 

Her head feels like it’s on fire, her chest feels inflamed, and her back is dripping with sweat. She whimpers. Hawkeye continues to card his fingers through her hair, gently untangling the knots.

 

“You’re going to be fine, Margaret, I promise.” He smoothes her hair back away from her face.

 

She doesn’t really think, just grabs his free hand and presses his palm to her forehead. It’s cool in contrast to her fever, and she sighs in relief.

 

He stays with her. When night starts to fall, he carries her from the Swamp to her tent. He’s strong and soft, and he smells like Korea and medicine. He gently lays her in her bed and presses a kiss to her forehead.

 

“You’ll be fine, Margaret.”

**Author's Note:**

> Is it crap? Yes. Am I still going to write this ship? Hell yeah. Gimme time, and angst, and hell yeah, it'll get better.


End file.
